Page 93 of Lost in the Dark

His chest rose and fell rapidly, highlighting the incredible breadth of his muscles. The way his shoulders flexed beneath the thin layer of fabric. His fingers dug into his mattress, as if trying to restrain himself from grabbing her. And the bulge in his trousers confirmed his words—he desired her.

She eased a knee onto his bed.

Even lying flat on his back, he was daunting. So large, it was as if she knelt beside an old god—perhaps she did. Trolls were the ancient rulers of the moors, and who knew how long one lived for. She should have been afraid, but all that thrummed through her veins was a desperate need to remove his trousers.

She untied his breeches, reveling in the way his cock was already swelling, pressing against the fabric. Tugging the garment over his hips, she gasped as the full length of him sprang free. Impossibly long and the same dusky purple as the rest of him, the tip was already glistening.

Oh, yes.

This had been an excellent plan.

Her mouth watered at the sight. She might yet be a virgin, but she’d listened to enough tales at the well to know what came next. Admittedly, she had no idea how she was going to fit all that length in her mouth. But never let it be said that a village girl from the moors didn’t know a thing or two about trying.

“Anna.” Enulf’s fingers grazed her cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh,” she said, “I want to.”

She wanted this—to taste and pleasure him.

And to grow stronger from both those acts. She remembered how he’d stood taller in the gallery after he’d licked her to oblivion, how his arm had seemed less withered and his gait less strained. If Rathbytten could become stronger from eating women, and Enulf could grow from tasting her—then surely, she could do the same. It just so happened that she had chosen pleasure.

She smiled against his cock. “You enjoy this?”

“Anna…” he groaned, his movements slow and hesitant.

She adjusted her position so she knelt between his legs, his cock between her hands as if she were praying.

Perhaps she was. For power and strength—and pleasure most of all.

Past the glistening tip, she found his eyes blazing.

Her troll. Larger than a moor cat, more powerful than a cave bear. All muscles and strength, despite his injuries—or perhaps because of them. He awed her, and enticed her. She might have come to this estate as a toll and she might be on her knees before him, but here she was in charge.

The control made her heady—made her wet.

Holding his gaze, she ran her tongue up his cock and delicately sampled the tip. “Mmmm.”

He tasted of smoked wood and anise and something indefinitely male.Delicious.

“Gods.” His fingers tangled in her hair, almost holding her back rather than pushing her further onto his cock.

She explored the length of him with her tongue. As she did that, she cupped his massive balls in her hands, rolling them in her palms. But those balls required both her hands, and she needed her hands for other things. This cock would take more than her mouth—it required everything. She laced her fingers together around his shaft, running it up and down the length and thrilling as it flexed within her grip. Opening wide, she took as much of his head into her mouth as she could.

His hips lifted off the bed and a moan shook his frame.

With every stroke of her tongue, she felt stronger.

The muscles of his thighs rippled around her, and his grip tightened in her hair. A rush of hot liquid filled her mouth and she swallowed eagerly. Power flooded through her body. She felt charged, as if she'd been caught outside in a thunderstorm and lightning had jumped into her veins.

Gods, she needed more.

She tightened her hold on his cock and tried to draw him deeper.

“Not yet,” Enulf growled. “It’s my turn to taste you. Please?”

She couldn’t ignore the longing in his voice. “I would enjoy that. But—”

He gripped her hips and lifted her off the bed and straight toward his mouth.

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